Supernatural fanfic
by findthecolt
Summary: Takes place after Season 9 Episode 13: The Purge. Sam and Dean's relationship is seriously strained after Sam dropped the harsh truth on Dean. (If you like it, pm me to finish it!)
1. Chapter 1

Dean lay awake in his bed; thoughts of what Sam had said earlier that day racing through his mind. He glanced at the clock absently noting that it was 5

in the morning and he still hadn't slept. _'How could __this have gone so wrong?' _he wondered. He rubbed his eyes and slowly threw his legs over the side of the

bed. Reaching under, he pulled out a packed army bag and tossed it over his shoulder as he stood up with a groan, his ligaments creaking.

Walking over to the door, he turned the handle slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. Taking a cautious step out the door, he scanned the

room to see the bunker was empty and his brother's

room was closed tightly. Dean sighed in relief that he wouldn't have to answer any unwanted questions and grabbed the keys off the table as he headed up

the stairs toward the bunker exit. He froze and grimaced as one of the old wooden stairs let out a creak, he stole a quick glance to make sure his brother's

door remained closed. The bunker remained silent. Before leaving, he gave the large room a quick once over before turning and leaving.

Stepping outside, Dean closed his eyes and inhaled the coolness of the cold autumn air. Turning, he quietly closed the bunker door and then continued

to head over to the impala.

It was still dark and the faintest hints of sunlight were just starting to peak over the horizon. He quickly opened the car door, it creaking loudly as he

entered, and sat heavily in the driver's seat. The impala started with a low grumble and he quickly put it in reverse and drove away from the hidden bunker.

He battled with his thoughts as he wondered how Sam would react to his sudden disappearance. _'It was probably for the best; I wasn't wanted or needed there _

_now anyway. And besides,'_ he told himself, _'if he __needs me he'll call.'_ Ever since yesterday when Sam had confessed that he no longer would do for Dean what

Dean would do for him in terms of laying down his life, Dean knew he had to go.

Blinking away all the thoughts of his brother, he forced himself to focus on the current plan. He had a few hunter buddies that had gathered in Toledo,

Ohio and they had requested a few days back that they wanted all the help they could get with a hunt_. 'A hunt will be good for me; I need to get back in the _

_game.'_ He thought. As he drove through the early dawn, his mind started wandering to the last time he and Sam had visited Toledo. Man, it felt like ages ago.

He remembered the curse of Bloody Mary settling on the town and how he and Sam had smashed dozens of mirrors to get rid of that son of a bitch. He

grimaced remembering his brother risking his life for his.

Dean shook his head of the memory and concentrated on driving. He glanced at the clock and guessed

he'd be arriving at the inn where his buddies were staying at in 4 or so hours. With a soft sigh, Dean reached over and turned the dial of the volume, blasting

Metallica through the crisp morning air.

* * *

Sam woke with a start, his hand gripping the knife under his pillow tightly. He looked around the room, his heart racing. He had been dreaming again.

Releasing the knife, he groggily got out of bed and stumbled over to the bathroom. Sam glanced in the mirror and quickly diverted his eyes; he looked like shit.

Sam turned on the tap and splashed ice cold water on his face. Smoothing back his hair, he took another look in the mirror. His eyes looked sunken into his

head and the dark circles under his eyes didn't help either. The nightmares were starting to take their toll on him. He hadn't told Dean yet, there was no point;

He'd just waste his time worrying when there was real work to do.

Sam stretched and yawned, trying to work out the night's kinks. Spying a pair of semi-clean jeans on the ground and a shirt draped over the towel rack, he

quickly changed and fixed his hair again.

Taking a breath, he strode out of the bathroom and through his bedroom out into the main room of the bunker. "Dean?" He narrowed his eyebrows as

he looked around. "Dean. We got work to do, let's go." Sighing, he wandered over to the other side of the bunker, passing the large table that had research

and day old pizza strewn across it, and over to Dean's bedroom.

He was about to knock when he noticed the door wasn't completely closed. Sam pushed the door open and peeked his head inside. "Dean?" His eyes

wandered over the room, the messy bed, the clothes thrown carelessly on the floor, the poster of two models in bikinis lying on top of an old style car, but no

Dean. Stepping back out of the room, his eyes again wandered over the course of the main room of the bunker. Everything was as it was when he

went to sleep that night.

An idea forming in his mind, Sam went over to the table where he had last seen the car keys and noticed they were missing. Turning heal fast, he

jogged into Deans room and threw open the closet, the army duffle bag that always sat in the corner was gone. Sam exhaled in annoyance. "He doesn't even

leave a note. Whatever, once he clears his head he'll be back soon enough."

Shaking his head, he returned to the large bunker room and opened up one of the coolers to retrieve a beer and a sandwich. Sitting down with a sigh,

he un-wrapped the sandwich and gave it a whiff. He crinkled his nose in disgust when the smell of obviously rotting meat filled the air. Throwing it in

the garbage, he settled down again and dug right into the research from the previous day.

There had been no good leads on Gadreel in weeks. They had decided to take a break from hunting the angel 24/7 and tried to focus on something else

for a while. Since then, three cases came up that all seemed linked to three separate items that Balthazar had stolen from Heaven. They had lost all trace of

the godly weapons since Balthazar disappeared, but all of a sudden they were popping up all over the map. Rumours have been spreading around Andale,

Kansas that the second half of The Staff of Moses has been recovered, according to one of Bobby's old friends. In Marsing, Idaho, nearly a dozen bodies have

been registered as missing and the only connections being piles of salt left in the victim's houses, indicating Lot's Salt could be at work. And in Blue River,

Colorado, there have been rumours that the Seal of Solomon has been found.

Castiel nor any other angel had ever mentioned it before, but its Christian roots and its great power went up as a red flag in Sam's mind. The Seal of

Solomon relic was in the form of a signant ring and was said to have the power to easily manipulate and control demons at will. _'Man,'_ Sam thought, _'now that _

_would be a useful item to get our hands on.'_

For the next several hours, Sam was consumed by the research of these three relics, determined to find every bit of information that might be helpful.

After searching tirelessly, Sam's stomach finally refused to go any longer without food and forced Sam out of his chair to search the bunker for something

suitable to eat. Stepping into the kitchen, Sam glanced at the clock. "Wow, it's ten already." He mumbled aloud. "At least I've got something useful to share

with Dean when he gets back."

His mind flashed to an impossibility which he quickly put out if his mind. "He'll be home soon." He said with authority.

* * *

Dean pulled into the rundown looking motel parking lot, right next to a truck that had a group of four men lingering around. Putting the car in park, he

glanced up when he heard someone rapping lightly on the top of his car.

"You made it! You made off like you weren't comin' when I called you a few days ago."

Dean looked up at the man with a scowl on his face and said in a stern voice "Hey, easy on the car."

The man's face became confused but after a moment burst into a beaming smile. "Man, it's good to see you."

Dean returned the smile with a low chuckle and got out of the car to give his old friend a hug.

"It's been too long Myles."

"I'd say" said Myles as he ruffled Dean's hair. "You'd think my kid brother would answer a call more than every 12 years."

Dean looked down slightly. "Yeah well, you know how it is…moving around a lot, ditching phones all the time. It's easy to lose touch."

The awkward silence wasn't broken until one of the other 3 guys came forward and shoved his hand toward Dean.

"You must be Dean," Dean took his hand silently and nodded.

"Myles has told us all about you. I'm Mac, this is Ryan," Mac gestured to one of the guys leaning against the truck with a Red Sox cap on. "and this is Abduel."

Abduel stepped forward and stiffly offered his hand, as if the custom was foreign to him. Dean shook his hand as well, noting that this middle-eastern man had

very rough hands and a tight grip.

Ryan spit on the ground and said "Myles, I thought you had no family?"

Myles laughed. "Such an optimist! But you're right, I technically got no real blood left. But Dean here and his dad are the closest thing I've

got to family."

Dean winced slightly at the mention of his father, it was an old wound but it still ached from time to time.

"How is the old geezer doing anyway?"

Dean looked away, inhaling quickly as he tried to think of what to say. Clearing his throat he said "He uh, he isn't around anymore."

Without losing a beat, Myles replied with a laugh, "When was he ever around? I seem to recall the reason we met was cause

he'd ditched ya in this godforsaken town to go on a hunt."

Dean shook his head, frustrated Myles was making this harder than it needed to be. Focusing his thoughts, he raised his eyes to meet Myles'; his

expression darkening. His jaw clenched as he said "He's gone Myles."

Myles quickly dropped his smirk and his gaze to the ground. Silence ensued and was only interrupted by voices in the distance and the

sounds of the motel door opening and closing.

Dean looked around and tried to lighten the mood by saying "I'm starving, any good grub around here?"

Myles looked up sheepishly and said "Yeah, there's a great place not 5 minutes from here. Their burgers are to kill for. Speaking of which, we'll catch you up on

the hunt while we're there –man is it ever a doozy."

Relieved that the tension was broken, Dean smirked and said "If any of you are tired of the trash heap Myles is driving around, feel free to hop in with

me."

Myles faked surprise as he swung for Dean's head, Dean easily dodging it. "Hey! I've had this beauty for 20 years and counting! Don't you dare insult

my Hilda."

Dean rolled his eyes and opened the creaky door of his Impala. "Yeah, whatever." Smiling to himself, Dean thought _'Man, it's good to be around _

_someone again who cares about you.'_

* * *

Sam closed his eyes and massaged his neck as his mind wandered over the vast amount of data he just poured over. Bobby's old friend from Andale had made

a call to him shortly after lunch, confirming the location of the second half of The Staff of Moses was indeed within a 30 mile radius. Sam glanced at the clock,

noting that it was nearing 3pm.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam closed his eyes and massaged his neck as his mind wandered over the vast amount of data he just poured over. Bobby's old friend from Andale

had made a call to him shortly after lunch, confirming the location of the second half of The Staff of Moses was indeed within a 30 mile radius and that he was

on his way to pick him up. Sam glanced at the clock, noting that it was nearing 3pm and that Booker, Bobby's friend, would be arriving momentarily. '_Still no _

_word from Dean.' _He thought. "Well," He said aloud, "I'm not doing any good just sitting around." Sam stood up and exhaled while picking up his phone. _'I'd _

_better let Dean know where I'm going." _He quickly shot off a text with an address and then placed the cell in his pocket. Just then, he heard a rapping at the

door. "Yeah, just a second." Sam jogged over and up the stairs to open the door. Standing in the doorway was a surly old fellow with hair more salt than

pepper, dressed in camo cargo pants and a black T. He stood there, hands in his pockets, while Sam gave him a once over. His face bore a faded scar from his

right temple to the base of his right ear and his clothes had seen better days. He looked as though he was down for business, his hair in a no-nonsense crew

cut.

"Well?" He said with eyebrows raised. "You coming or what?"

"Um, yeah. One sec." Sam left the door open as he briskly went to his room to grab his ready-to-go bag. "Let's go."

Sam closed the door behind him and made a line of salt in front of the door, just in case. Finished, he followed Booker to his black old jeep and hopped

into the passenger side as Booker started the engine.

"So, you're John Winchester's kid."

Sam looked at him with furrowed brows. "You knew my father? I thought you were just a friend of Bobby's?"

Booker chuckled, "I've heard stories. I was never close with your father, but I sure knew a lot about him. He's famous in the hunting world don't forget."

Sam looked down. "Of course. So how did you catch wind of the staff being in your area?"

"Well, there have been 7 unnatural deaths in total in the surrounding area. A man died in the middle of the street and eye witnesses swear he was vomiting

up frogs, of course the authorities didn't believe them, but when an autopsy was done, his body was filled with them."

Sam raised his eyebrows, "Sounds like something out of Harry Potter."

"There was also a guy who, while in the middle of a police interrogation, exploded and filled the room with thousands of gnats. Three more died from infectious

boils all over their body, and another died from locusts devouring his body in the night."

Sam shook his head in disbelief. "Wow, sounds like a nightmare."

Booker nodded and continued, "I was starting to piece it together but what really sealed the deal was when my nephew died."

Sam looked abruptly at Booker and was about to say something when Booker interrupted.

"They don't know why he died. It was ruled as inconclusive. But, he was their first born."

Sam looked down and said, "Man, I'm sorry."

Booker took his focus off the road to look Sam square in the eye. "We're gonna find whoever's doin this."

Sam nodded in response. His mind absently wandering to Dean, wondering if he got his message or not.

* * *

After swallowing the last morsel of his burger, Dean wiped his hands on his napkin and put a fist to his chest, letting out a deep burp.

Myles grinned, "You haven't changed a bit."

Mac and Ryan were still gulfing down their food, but Myles pushed his towards Dean. "I've had enough."

Dean's eyes lit up as he pulled the leftover food towards him. Abduel, who had ordered nothing, sat there and observed the others. Myles pulled his chair

closer to the table, his expression turning serious. "But now, onto more important matters, everyone's caught up but you Dean. We've got word that there's a

vamp pack hidden somewhere in the forest just north of here. There have been multiple attacks within the last 3 months that would suggest there's more than

one vamp."

"Who's your intel?" Asked Dean.

"A buddy of mine had been tracking a stray for a few months, he said the vamp wound up here and joined a pack. It seems that they have a type, blonde

females between the ages of 18 and 25. Not only do they bleed them dry, but these malicious bloodsuckers pose them too." Myles pulled a picture out of his

pocket and tossed it on the table. It portrayed two young women with their mouths sewn into permanent smiles and their right hands sewn above their

hearts. "I'm not sure what it means yet, but I think finding out will be key in locating these bastards. I witnessed one attack but he got away before I could

introduce my machete to his neck. He also didn't have time to sew her up, but there was thread and a needle lying by her body. Judging by the amount of

murders and time in between deaths, we're looking at anywhere between 4 and 8 vamps. I know you all have experience hunting these monsters, but a word

of caution," Myles looked everyone in the eye, his expression grim, "I've hunted many a vamp in my time, but these guys mean business. They are faster,

stronger, and smarter than any I have encountered before. And the time this vamp took to kill her was nearly half the time it usually takes them. She was dry

within minutes from the time she screamed to the time I was on the scene. We need to take extra precautions with this hunt." Everyone nodded in

agreement, except for Ryan who absently played with his fork.

"I don't see the big problem. We lure one out, scare him off and follow him home, and then wait till dawn so we can go in there and slice their heads off."

Myles sighed as Mac jumped in. "Did you not hear anything he just said? These aren't ordinary vampires. And besides, it's never that easy."

Ryan rolled his eyes as he stood up. "Well, I'll see you all in the morning then."

Myles nodded and spoke to the rest of them. "You'd best be getting some shut-eye too. We're gonna need our strength. Let's meet in the parking lot at 9am

tomorrow." Abduel, Mac, and Dean all stood and got ready to leave.

Dean threw a 20 onto the table and then nodded at Myles. "I'll see you in the morning."

Myles winked and replied, "You betcha."

Dean exited the small diner and headed for the Impala. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he withdrew his keys with one hand and opened the creaky door with

another. Sitting heavily in the driver's seat, he inserted the keys and started up his Baby; a sigh of contentment escaping his lips as he listened to the familiar

hum. It took him not 5 minutes to return to the motel where he then checked in and received his key. Climbing the stairs, he observed the layout of the

rundown motel. The off-white walls were faded and covered in graffiti and water damage. The smell of cigarette smoke lingered in the air and he heard a dog

barking and a baby crying somewhere off in the distance. "Charming." Dean said with frown. He glanced at his room key, noting the number on the sticker

listed 5B. Coming to his room, he slipped the key into the lock and turned it, but the door wouldn't budge. He shoved his shoulder into it, but to no avail.

"You gotta put your back into it."

Dean turned to see a woman holding a baby, a smile gracing her lips as she watched Dean struggle with the door.

Dean turned back to the door and again shoved his shoulder into the wood, this time it giving way and forcing Dean to almost sprawl out onto the floor. He

quickly gained his balance and turned to the woman, who was trying to hide her smile with her free hand. A flush rising to his cheeks, Dean offered a quick

smile of thanks and a wave as he entered his room, closing the door behind him. Dean threw his bag in the corner and crashed on the bed with an exhale.

Closing his eyes, he thought over the day's events. He wasn't worried about Sam; he knew he could take care of himself. This time apart was best for both of

them. _'Maybe I should call him…tell him where I'm at.' _Dean reached into his pocket and pulled the cell phone out, noticing the LED light was already blinking.

Flipping it open, he read "1 new text". Dean stared at the phone for a moment longer, weighing the decision of reading the message or not. After a moment of

thought, he snapped the phone shut and returned it to his pocket. _'I don't want to deal with any drama just yet. I'll let him cool off a while longer.' _With this

decision made, Dean allowed his eyes to close, and his consciousness to slip into a somewhat peaceful state of sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The night was crisp and Sam shivered as he stepped out of the Jeep.

"Is this the location? He asked Booker, looking around.

They had driven through the city and out into the country. Heading north for a few hours, Booker had turned off a side road and onto a hidden path, leading to where they were now. The small hidden road, shadowed by a thick mass of trees, broke into a large meadow. In the center of the meadow lay a neatly kept cabin; smoke billowing from the rooftop chimney. The stars and full moon stood directly above, lighting up the meadow.

Booker reached into the back of the Jeep, parked on the side of the hidden road, and pulled his bag out, slamming the door shut. "Let's go." He headed towards the welcoming looking cabin, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Sam followed in step, his eyes wandering to the dimly lit window. He strained to see what was inside, but the darkness limited his vision. Coming up to the doorway, Booker rapped loudly at the thick wood, his knock seeming to boom through the silence.

After a moment, the door opened and an elderly woman peered out, flashlight in hand. She aimed the flashlight into their eyes as she asked suspiciously, "Who are you, what do you want?"

Booker put his arm up to cover his eyes. "Tilda, relax. It's just me." Her demeanor relaxed slightly. "Ah, and whosit you got there with you?"

"Oh for God's sake woman, lower that light. He's a friend of a friend, come to help." She grunted in response, but moved aside and opened the doors wider to allow us entrance.

Stepping inside, Sam surveyed the cramped little cottage. It was one room with a small single bed in the northwest corner, piled with quilts, and a large dream catcher hanging above the bed frame. On the west wall there was a fireplace filled with burning coals and a pile of wood and kindling was stacked neatly to the side. There was a table in the middle with two wobbly chairs surrounding it, and in the northeast corner of the room were a small oven and a sink. Tribal decorations, dried herbs, and furs draped over the chairs and hung on the walls, giving it a very outdoorsy feel.

"Come come now, close the door behind you!" Snapped the elderly woman.

"Oh yeah, sorry." Sam quickly jumped to obey.

Turning to Booker, the woman completely ignored Sam as she asked, "Booker, why did you bring this child along?"

Sam raised his eyebrows.

Raising his hands, Booker said to her. "Tilda, relax. This is John Winchester's kid. He has a mediocre amount of training."

Sam again raised his eyebrows.

"He could be useful in helping us. Plus, he claims to have had a run in with this particular angelic weapon. He even ran into the bastard angel that created this mess by stealing them in the first place."

Tilda eyed Sam warily. "Is this true?"

Sam cleared his throat. "Yes, it is. We located one of the pieces of the staff but it disappeared along with the ang-"

Tilda turned again to Booker, cutting Sam off. "Useless. What is he supposed to do? He's barely more than a child; he'll only get in the way. I thought I asked you to get _experienced_ hunters."

Booker sighed. "Tilda, this was the best I could do on short notice. There's no one else around."

Sam decided to ignore the fact he was being ignored and insulted. He interjected by saying, "Could one of you tell me exactly what you know?" He said as he pulled out his laptop from his carry-on bag.

Tilda looked down at him, scrutiny in her eyes. "I hope you don't think you'll get internet out here."

Sam blinked and narrowed his eyes slightly as he closed the laptop. "Right…"

Booker shook his head and said, "Sam, I'm tired and I'd prefer if we all got caught up in the morning."

Tilda gestured to under her bed, "There's only one extra pallet. One of you will have to sleep outside."

Sam sighed slightly and looked at Booker, "You take the pallet, I'll sleep in the Jeep." Booker tossed the keys at him. "Turn it on if it gets cold. Just don't waste  
all the gas." Sam nodded and headed out to the Jeep.

The night was pretty chill and he pulled his coat closer around his body. Dry leaves crunched under his feet and an owl hooted somewhere in the distance. Reaching the Jeep, he lowered the seat down so he could half sit/half lie down in the small vehicle. Trying to ignore his cramped legs, his mind wandered to all that had happened. He wondered how Dean was doing, he was still a little ticked he hadn't called or left a note; but that was Dean for you. Sam reached into his back pocket to pull out his phone. No new messages. He sighed and tossed it into the other seat. Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift, wondering what the next couple of days would bring. The worries finally drifted from his mind and soon he was in a deep sleep.

* * *

Dean woke with a start to someone shaking him, he immediately grabbed the knife from under his pillow and thrusted the blade upwards.

Myles jumped backwards in surprise. "Easy buddy!"

"Jesus, Myles. I could have killed you!" Dean said angrily.

"I knocked on the door and there was no answer. I was worried something happened. You wouldn't wake when I called you and you were sweating and mumbling something about The First Blade."

Dean winced, suddenly noticing the throbbing pain in his arm.

Myles eyes widened as he noticed the Mark of Cain scarred into Dean's arm. "What the hell is that?"

Dean quickly rolled down his sleeves and stood up. "Nothing, let's go." He said gruffly, grabbing his keys and bag and headed for the door, ignoring the worried look on Myles' face. "Come on, we've got work to do."

Myles shook his head and followed after Dean.

Abduel, Mac, and Ryan, were waiting in the parking lot, leaning against Ryan's truck. Ryan had a rifle swung over his shoulder and a shotgun in his hand.

"Those aren't gonna do you much good against a nest of vamps." Dean said.

Ryan sneered in his direction, "I'll do it my way, you do it your way."

Myles interjected quickly by saying, "Guys, ease up. We're a team."

Ryan rolled his eyes.

"So," Dean began, looking at Myles and turning his back to Ryan. "Where's this nest."

Myles opened the door of the truck and pulled out a rolled up piece of paper. "This is a map of the surrounding area" Unrolling it, he pointed to two red circles drawn on the map. "We believe they are in one of these two places. Fortunately, they are pretty close together so we can split up and sniff it out and then call one another if someone finds something. Any questions?"

"Shouldn't we wait till dawn to move in on them? That way we can assume that they are going to be inside, contained. We have a higher risk of letting them escape if we try and pull this off tonight." said Mac.

Myles nodded and replied, "Normally that would be the process, but my CI informed me that they were planning on moving camps soon. If we wait any longer, they could be gone anyway."

Dean looked skeptically at Myles. "How confidant are you in this CI?"

Myles looked Dean in the eye and said without hesitation. "Very."

After a moment of silence, Myles continued, "Ok, let's get started. Mac, you're with me and Dean. We'll take the north side of the forest, here," He said, pointing to one of the circles on the map. "Abduel, you're with Ryan. You'll take the other location. Call if you see anything suspicious, but do not engage. Let's get going."

Dean headed over to the impala and opened the trunk. Mac, who was right behind him, whistled when he saw the inner contents of the vehicle. "Man, you sure come equipped."

Dean reached into the car and pulled out 2 machetes and a couple of syringes filled with Dead Man's Blood. "Yeah well, you can never be too prepared." Dean handed a machete to Mac and a syringe with the deadly liquid. "Hold onto these."

Mac nodded and then took a seat in the back of the impala. Myles, who had just pulled a machete out of the back of Ryan's truck, wandered over to Dean with a slight smirk on his face. "So, gonna let me drive?"  
After a moment of silence, Dean put his hand on Myles' shoulder and looked at him solemnly. Then with a slight grin he said, "Not a chance."

Both chuckled as they got into the impala. With a low rumble, Dean started the car and backed out, exiting the parking lot.

They briefly discussed the mission and then silence fell over the vehicle. Each of them thinking and planning what the wisest way of going about this was.

After about 40 minutes of driving, Dean turned off the highway and onto a somewhat hidden dirt path into the forest. The impala rolled across the barren earth and came to a stop far enough into the forest that the vehicle could not be seen from the road.

The car doors creaked loudly as they got out. Myles grinned at Dean. "Same old impala."

Machetes in hand, Mac, Myles, and Dean crept deeper into the forest. After 10 minutes of walking in silence, Dean raise his hand, bringing the party to a halt. 30 yards ahead, the brush opened up into a clearing where a large building could be seen. They crept closer to get a better look. On the side of the building was a rusty sign which read "Forshire Logging Company." Mac came up behind Dean and said with a whisper "Looks like an old logging camp." Dean nodded.

Myles gave them a hand signal to use caution as they approached. "They could be in there." he said, his voice barely audible. An eerie silence fell over the party as they crept closer to the assumed vampire nest.

As they came to the edge of the brush, Myles signaled a halt. He leaned towards his shoulder, engaging the walkie-talkie and whispered into the mic. "Abduel, Ryan, any movement where you are?"

After a moment of silence, Myles tried again. "Abduel...Ry, what's goin on?"

Myles waited another moment before looking at Dean and Mac. "They might have found something. I'm sure they can take care of themselves for the moment, they know not to engage. But after we check this place out, we should head over there to make sure nothing's up."

Dean and Mac nodded.

Mac inched over to Myles, doing his best to be quiet and not break too many branches underfoot. "What happens if they're in there?"

"Then we fall back. We need all 5 of us to take these bastards down. If you see one, or are spotted, make a direct exit to the impala...fast as you can. Signal us with two clicks on the walki-talki. Dean, Mac and I are going to try and get closer to the building. Mac's going to take the left side, I'm going for the right. There's sure to be a back entrance. I want you to wait 5 minutes and then follow up the front and enter from there. Once we confirm they are inside, backtrack silently. This should be a painless operation."

Dean stared at the building for a moment and then nodded at Myles. "Let's do this."

Dean watched as Myles and Mac separated and made their ways to opposite sides of the building. The next 5 minutes were tense, but at the same time, boring as hell. He had done this many times, with his father, his brother, Bobby. This was natural to him. Instinct. He knew exactly what to do. His eyes were focused, his ears were alert, waiting for the sound of two clicks on the intercom. After what felt like an eternity, Dean slowly and silently made his way out of the brush; pulling the First Blade he had tucked in the back of his belt and held it white-knuckled in his hand. Stepping out of the brush made him feel naked, vulnerable. He forced his breathing to be slow and steady but the rush was getting to him. His adrenaline spiked, pumping through his veins, quickening his breath, his heart-rate. The normal throb from the Mark of Cain turned into a resonating pulse. He could feel it, he could almost taste it. The killing, the death, the blood. As he got closer to the building, white noise filled his ears. His mind forced out all consciousness, all remembrance of "get in, get out, information only." was slipping from his thoughts. His ability to grasp rational and reasoning was replaced with bloodlust. A small smirk enveloped his face. This was going to be fun.


	4. Chapter 4 (1of2) july 31

"Rise and shine, we've got work to do."

Sam awoke to Booker tossing a leather-bound tome into his lap and a piece of paper.

Grunting he sat up in his seat and rubbed his eyes, careful not to knock the items onto the floor. "What time is it?" he asked Booker.

"Half past 6 in the AM. I have already been up discussing further operations with Tilda." Booker looked worn, as if he hadn't slept at all. His eyes looked empty and the bags didn't help his features any either. "Her intel puts our ancient staff in the hands of a pretty well known miracle worker, Mordecai Fronac."

"A miracle worker?" Sam questioned, trying to quell his curiosity of Booker's state. "Why would a known so-called miracle worker be killing people?"

"I know, it doesn't add up. We need to head into town to and see what we can dig up to make sense of it all."

"You sure you're up for it? You look pretty awful."

Booker's lips quirked up in a rare half smile. "The dawn adds shadows and years to my face. I'm fine. Everything's fine."

Sam nodded, trying to stretch the numbness out of his long legs, still not totally convinced by his words but decided dropping it would probably be better. "If you say so. I'm ready to go."

Booker grunted, climbed into the jeep, and inserted the key into ignition.

"So what's this book and piece of paper all about?"

Booker glanced over to Sam, then behind him as he backed up the Jeep.

"The piece of paper is an address for a guy who may know the whereabouts of the miracle worker.. The book is a cipher of a passage in the Bible."

Sam's eyebrows went up. "This whole book is focused on one single part in the Bible?"

Without keeping his eyes off the worn-out path he replied, "Think of it as a dictionary to a very confusing chapter. It takes every cryptic thing mentioned about the Staff of Moses and breaks it down into concise points that can actually be, mostly, understood."

Sam opened the book, noticing it's worn and poor condition. Its binding was cracked and some of the pages were starting to fall out. Dust coated every page and Sam had to blow it off to be able to read anything. On closer inspection he noticed the writing to be in a dialect he didn't recognize.

"Can you read it?" Booker asked, not looking at Sam.

"I'm not sure….it bears similarity to some angelic text I've seen….but I can't quite make it out. I'll send a text to Dean and see if he can find anything at the bunker."

_/Dean, I've got a lead on the Staff of Moses._  
_I attached an image of one of the pages of an ancient book._  
_Can you try and track down any similar text for me? _  
_There should be something in the archives._

_Thanks. Text me./_

Sam hesitated, wanting to write more, but decided against it and sent the message.

He then glanced at the paper with the address written on it.

It read "/Toledo Ohio/"


	5. Chapter 4 (2of2) updated july 31 2016

Blood. Broken glass. Quiet breathing.

Silence.

The loudest sound made was the blood dripping from Dean's machete and the now gentle throb of the Mark of Cain.

Eyes filled with lust and infernal hatred gazed upon the room, searching for more prey. His ears straining to hear the slightest of sounds, the slightest of movements. There! A quiet bristle of movement to the left. Dean, blinded by bloodlust, dashed to the side and whipped his machete around towards the noise. His blade connected with a metal shelf supporting old equipment causing a loud clang to echo through the empty building. He heard a terrified gasp and walked slowly around the corner, grinning. There before him sat a young boy not more than 12 years old, but sure enough a pair of pointy fangs graced his mouth. He looked terrified, quivering at the sight of the blood soaked man; if that is what he was. He looked more like a demon, sent by Lucifer himself to collect a bounty of blood.

"Please….please don't hurt me. I haven't done anything wrong. I haven't fed, I mean I wanted to but I stopped myself. Please you have to believe me. They tried to make me but I refused."

Dean's face solemned. "You haven't fed yet?"

"No, please you have to believe me."

The evil in his eyes ebbed away a bit; pity replaced it. "I believe you."

Relief washed over the child. He was about to speak again before Dean plunged his machete through his chest.

Relief was replaced with pain, anguish, and pure terror as the boy struggled to free himself from Dean's blade. "HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELP!"

Dean withdrew his machete only to slash and stab several more times before finally beheading his victim.

Sighing with satisfaction, he wiped his wet blade on his jeans and looked around to survey his masterpiece.

Bodies, heads, blood, chaos, perfection. He had never felt so alive, never so free. Giving into every temptation gave birth to something inside him, something that he had no desire to shackle. A thirst only quenched by one thing, death.

"Dean."

Dean whipped around, his bloodshot eyes wide and dangerous.

Before him stood Myles and Mac behind him. Mac's eyes wide with disbelief and fear. Myles hands were clenched at his sides, eyes narrow and cautious.

"What have you done?"

Dean smiled at them dangerously, "What do you mean? I finished the job."

"I told you to wait! I told you to survey only and report back! This….this isn't right. You could have saved that kid! "

"Come on, you couldn't have believed that crap? Vampires will say anything to get out of dismemberment. I did him a favor." He said it as if the kid owed him. As if his brutal and vicious death was a generous and considerate service.

"Put the blade down, Dean."

Anger welled in his chest, making him grip the machete even tighter. They had no right to interfere, they had no right to get involved in his objective. They were just obstacles now.

"Did your dad teach you this?"

Dean faltered. Flashes of John Winchester rushed through his mind. Anger and sorrow struck his heart, adding to an emotional storm inside him that had been raging for quite some time. He shook his head trying to get rid of the images.

"Leave him out of this."

"I know he was thorough but he wasn't cruel. He wasn't bloodthirsty." Myles narrowed his eyes even more. "He wasn't evil."

"I SAID SHUT UP!" Dean lunged at Myles, machete aimed for his heart, yelling in rage.

Mac jumped back with a yell and Myles got his hands up just in time to deflect Dean's blade and grab his arms.  
They fell to the floor, both grappling for the blade. Though they were equal in size, Dean's deadly determination put him on top. He got on Myles' chest, machete aimed at his throat. Myles' desperately tried to throw Dean off but his firm grip was steadfast. Their eyes locked as Dean slowly leaned in on the hilt of his blade, forcing it closer and closer to Myles' throat.

"Dean. This isn't you."

"It is now." Dean said, eyes appearing angry but were betrayed by the tears streaming down his face.

"You can stop, Dean. Put it down."

Dean's strength wavered but still he pressed on.

"I can't."

"Dean."

"I CAN'T"

Myles closed his eyes. "Then kill me. It's ok. If that's what you need to do then do it."

Again Dean faltered. He looked from the blade, to Myles, to Mac who was frozen in fear.

_What am I doing?_ He thought. He suddenly saw Myles for who he really was. He wasn't prey,  
he wasn't a threat. He was his friend. And he was about to kill him.

The machete clattered to the ground as Dean fell to the side.  
The Mark of Cain burned, it burned white hot. Its excruciating pain made Dean's eyes roll into the back of his head.  
Suddenly what he saw on the inside was all he could see on the outside.  
Darkness.


End file.
